Do not attempt these techniques unless you have a TV show and lots of books. (With bonus rant!)
Not all dogs enjoy walks.
I attempted to interest my puppy in the outside world--the existence of which she had no knowledge of until I carried her onto the porch one day. Many kinder, gentler, puppy trainers with newer methods wrote me e-mails which made me feel abusive for causing the puppy mental distress, and I responded with the revelation that I don't like going out much, myself.
The puppy likes to eat things, though, and the chance of her eating a chair or a human leg goes up if she's not busy, and so I reasoned that the visual stimuli provided by street life might make her forget about filling her mouth for a few seconds. It did. Now The Puppy knows there is fun to be had on the other side of the gate. Thank you Cesar Millan, my dog wants to run away from home.
There really is a matted rapist dog on the block that we have to worry about, you know.
There's only one vet this side of the parkway, and he doesn't perform surgery anymore, so this makes a handy excuse for all the male dogs in the area to still be virile little sex machines. The fact that all our dogs and cats are and have always been spayed and neutered is lost on the owners of one matty, moppy dog who I will call Fruit Loops. Fruit Loops not only leaves a trail of poop up the street for all the neighbors, but also humps everything but his own poop (I hope). Sometimes, at night, I still feel dirty when I think about the first time I met Fruit Loops. How was I to know?!
Why I've gone off on a tangent about the matted rapist dog from up the street is because the humans he is unfortunate enough to belong to are fucking insane. They leave the dog poop all over, which is just sloppy, but when my mother came home the other day and found the dog putting something special in our driveway, and she asked the boy with him not to come up into our driveway again and maybe even pick up the poop that the dog was still doing as he was dragged up the street, it led to the police coming to our house. She asked nicely--my mother's a nice person--she is usually the one who ends up picking up Fruit Loops' poops...but still, it led to police activity.
No, really, this is breaking news. Literally. Apparently, asking someone to pick up after their dog is grounds for having your storm door smashed in the next day. I learn something new every day.
(I would like to note that the odd sticker of the Blessed Mother checking out the Liberty Bell has been there since 2001...and I didn't put it there. Just so you know. I think you can probably tell which things I stuck on there.)
I attempted to interest my puppy in the outside world--the existence of which she had no knowledge of until I carried her onto the porch one day. Many kinder, gentler, puppy trainers with newer methods wrote me e-mails which made me feel abusive for causing the puppy mental distress, and I responded with the revelation that I don't like going out much, myself.
The puppy likes to eat things, though, and the chance of her eating a chair or a human leg goes up if she's not busy, and so I reasoned that the visual stimuli provided by street life might make her forget about filling her mouth for a few seconds. It did. Now The Puppy knows there is fun to be had on the other side of the gate. Thank you Cesar Millan, my dog wants to run away from home.
There really is a matted rapist dog on the block that we have to worry about, you know.
There's only one vet this side of the parkway, and he doesn't perform surgery anymore, so this makes a handy excuse for all the male dogs in the area to still be virile little sex machines. The fact that all our dogs and cats are and have always been spayed and neutered is lost on the owners of one matty, moppy dog who I will call Fruit Loops. Fruit Loops not only leaves a trail of poop up the street for all the neighbors, but also humps everything but his own poop (I hope). Sometimes, at night, I still feel dirty when I think about the first time I met Fruit Loops. How was I to know?!
Why I've gone off on a tangent about the matted rapist dog from up the street is because the humans he is unfortunate enough to belong to are fucking insane. They leave the dog poop all over, which is just sloppy, but when my mother came home the other day and found the dog putting something special in our driveway, and she asked the boy with him not to come up into our driveway again and maybe even pick up the poop that the dog was still doing as he was dragged up the street, it led to the police coming to our house. She asked nicely--my mother's a nice person--she is usually the one who ends up picking up Fruit Loops' poops...but still, it led to police activity.
No, really, this is breaking news. Literally. Apparently, asking someone to pick up after their dog is grounds for having your storm door smashed in the next day. I learn something new every day.
(I would like to note that the odd sticker of the Blessed Mother checking out the Liberty Bell has been there since 2001...and I didn't put it there. Just so you know. I think you can probably tell which things I stuck on there.)